


This Thing We're Doing

by Medeafic



Series: Captain Spanky Series [5]
Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Biting, M/M, Mention of dubcon and barebacking, Mild D/s, Sado-Masochism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-07
Updated: 2011-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-15 11:41:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/160483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medeafic/pseuds/Medeafic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris wants his ass fucked.  Zach wants things defined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Thing We're Doing

The strange thing about it, Chris thinks, is that Zach has not changed at all. 

He still lets Chris win at _Street Fighter_ , despite the fact that Chris is _really_ bad at it.  He still unrepentantly kicks his ass at _Rock Band_.  He still laughs his goofy laugh at Chris’s jokes.  He still makes him chai tea for no reason and he still hopes that Chris will eventually convert to liking it.

And strangest of all, to Chris, is his abhorrence for real cruelty.  Zach doesn’t like watching the news, and gets particularly upset about stories of violence against animals and children in the papers.  Chris watches him playing with Noah and Harold and wonders at the fact that the same hands that scratch and bruise his skin mercilessly can be so exquisitely gentle when petting soft fur.

It’s not that Chris expects a suddenly sociopathic Zach.  He just can’t quite push the two Zachs together in his own mind.  For Zach, sex and pain are in different compartments to the rest of his life.  Experience (or maybe therapy) has given him a capacity to hold that delicate balance. 

Chris is still learning how to maintain an equilibrium.  He finds himself getting hard unexpectedly when Zach shoves him jokingly out of the way so he can claim the couch all for himself.  He finds himself growing angry sometimes when Zach insistently pushes him face first onto the bed.

And for all that, Zach still hasn’t even fucked his ass.  Never even raised the issue.  Two months, and all they’ve done is suck, touch, rub.  And spank, pinch, scratch, bite.  But no penetration, which Chris is starting to wonder about.

Something that Chris has noticed about Zach is, he can say things like “I think I’d like to flog you until you can barely stand up, what do you think?” or, “Get on your knees and beg nicely to suck my cock, and I might let you,” (and sometimes he really doesn't let him) without so much as a blush or a second thought for how it sounds.  And one of his rules, which he invokes occasionally, is _If you can’t say it, you can’t do it_.  He likes to make Chris request things sometimes, and gets a particular kick out of seeing his embarrassment.

Which is why it’s _so weird_ that he hasn’t mentioned ass-fucking at all. 

“You’ve never fucked me,” Chris blurts out one morning.  They are sitting in a quiet coffee shop and waiting for John, Karl and Anton to show up.  “My ass,” he specifies, when Zach frowns in confusion.  “Is that something you like?  Or – not?”

Now Zach looks taken aback.  “Of course it’s something I like,” he says.  “I just didn’t think you would care for it.”

“Not _care_ for it?” Chris repeats.  “Like I don’t _care_ for chai tea?  Really?”

“I thought you were starting to come around to chai,” Zach says, slightly miffed.

“Fuck your hipster chai,” Chris sighs.  “We’re talking about sex.”

“Christopher, this probably isn’t a good time.”  Zach keeps his voice low.

Chris twists his head around the room.  An elderly couple, wearing matching t-shirts that say _What’ll You See in Seattle?_ , are sitting in one corner.  The barista is reading his horoscope in an old magazine.  There is only one other patron, a large-faced businessman speaking loudly into his cell, but he’s sitting outside. 

“I don’t think Seattle over there are going to care about us,” Chris says.  “Maybe it’ll even give them a thrill.”

“That barista totally looks like he’d sell a story, though,” Zach says.  Chris sees that the barista, who appears barely seventeen despite his heavy eyeliner, is occasionally flicking glances towards them.

“He just thinks I’m pretty,” Chris grins. 

But then Karl arrives, giving them manly hugs.  John and Anton saunter in together soon after, and they are caught up in greetings, coffee orderings, decisions about whether to get muffins or pastries.

“Been doing anything interesting?” Karl asks Chris.  Chris freezes with his coffee cup halfway to his mouth, forces himself to move again.

“Not…really?” he says.  Zach looks smug.

Karl lifts an eyebrow, his eyes darting between them.  “Oh.  I see.”

“Zach’s been doing lots of interesting stuff,” John says, taking a huge bite out of his muffin.  When Chris looks horrified, John clarifies with surprise, “Before the Door stuff,” around the muffin mouthful.  He swallows, hard.  “I think my TV show’s gonna get cancelled,” he says mournfully.  “Too bad.  I was enjoying the steady paycheck.”

“Mine too,” Zach says.  “We can be unemployed actors together.”  They fist-bump.

“Work in a coffee shop,” John suggests.  “But – one with better muffins.”  He lets Anton have the rest of his.

Zach was right about the barista.  By the time they’re ready to leave, a small pack of paparazzi have gathered outside. 

“Say g’bye to your _boyfriend_ for me,” Chris overhears Karl saying to Zach.  Karl gives a cheeky smile before opening the door.

Chris sees a look flash across Zach’s face that is clearly a precursor to the statement, “He is _not_ my boyfriend,” but Zach doesn’t say it.  He lets it go, smiles and pretends it was a joke.  The paps start snapping; Karl waves back through the window at them as he stalks off.

Later, when Chris and Zach have ditched the photographers and are walking back to the car, Zach teases him.  “Pine, you are good at your craft, but you suck at a poker face.”  He mimics Chris’s face of horror and frozen-in-mid-air latte.

“Maybe we should have just told them,” Chris mutters.  He kicks the car tire.

It’s Zach’s turn to fail at poker face.  Chris drinks in his expression of surprise, hope and conflict all at once.  But he’s still stuck on Zach’s mute denial to Karl, and knows he looks sullen.

“Um,” Zach says.  “So do you want me to drop you back home, or –”

“Yeah, sure,” Chris says.  The drive passes quietly; they make only polite small talk.

“Hey, man,” Zach says, as Chris starts to get out of the car.  “Next time – we should have that conversation you wanted.  About –”

“Ass-fucking?” Chris asks with a grin, unable to stay sulky.

Zach ducks his head with a smile.  “Yeah.  Ass-fucking.  Classy as always.  Get out of the damn car, Pine,” he says.

Chris watches him drive away, but Zach doesn’t wave in the rear-view.

  
 *******

  
Chris invites himself over to Zach’s place a few days later.  When he’s patiently worn out Zach’s excuses about dog walking, cat combing, line reading, call returning, goddamn _kitchen cleaning_ , he finally gets him to make some chai tea and start talking.  Chris even keeps a pleasant face while drinking his.

“Mmmmm, yum.”

“That’s overdoing it,” Zach tells him.

“Okay,” Chris says, getting down to business.  “So why haven’t you fucked me yet?”

Zach’s fingers tighten around his mug.  “Like I said, I didn’t think you would be into it.  That time we talked, you remember?  You were worried about 'anal things.'  So I figured you weren't down with that.”

"Can you stop doing air quotes when you say that?" Chris asks.  "And besides, that was before."  He's grateful that Zach doesn't ask _before what_.

"Well," says Zach, and then stops.

“So this is because I’m not flamingly gay?” Chris asks, frowning.

Zach lifts a shoulder.  “Maybe.  I guess.  How can I put this?"  He contemplates.  "A lot of non-gay guys find getting fucked in the ass a bit confronting to their masculinity."

“But I’m not a paragon of heterosexuality, either,” Chris says.

“This is a fact,” Zach agrees.  Chris looks at him expectantly.  Zach says, “It’s just – that’s kind of crossing over a line that can’t be crossed back.  This whole thing started as an experiment for you – no, I really _don’t_ mean that in a bad way,” he clarifies, before Chris can interrupt.  “We’re good.  But I didn’t want to do anything that might, you know.”

“Freak me out?”

“Yeah.”

Chris starts laughing.  “So – caning your initial into my ass is okay, claiming that said ass is your _property_ is okay, but fucking it is some big scary deal?”

“When you put it like _that_ ,” Zach says, “it sounds stupid.”

“It _is_ stupid,” Chris says.  They look at each other.  “I want you to.  Okay?”

Zach looks down at his chai tea, still steaming.  “Chris, what exactly is this thing we’re doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

Chris doesn’t want to have this conversation right now, because he thinks Zach is about to break it off, this thing they’re doing. 

He can see that Zach doesn’t really want to talk about it either, but is forcing it.  Chris says, “You've never worried about it before.  Is this just because I asked you to fuck me?  Suddenly we have to give this thing a name?”

“You’re the one who likes to label everything.  And – we’re stuck with each other for a long time to come,” Zach points out.  “With _Trek_.  If we screw up –”

“Are you seeing someone?  Do you _want_ to see someone?”

“No, it's not that.”

“Then don’t worry about it,” Chris says, shrugging.  “You worry too much.”

“Well, one of us has to,” Zach says softly.  But he drops the issue.

Later, when Chris is leaving to walk home, Zach stops him at the door.  “Hey.  I want you to know I’m clean too.”

“Huh?”

“ _Clean_ , Christopher.  You never asked.”  Chris didn’t think he had to.  “You told me about your test results, but you didn’t ask back.  It’s something you should know, though.”

“Okay,” Chris says, feeling stupid.

They haven’t exactly been safe anyway, swallowing each other’s come for weeks.  But Chris understands that there are some things that are different among men.  That kind of safety is not something he’s thought about much in sex; his concern has been focused around baby-making.  He knows it was probably irresponsible, but he’s been lucky so far.  Clean, like Zach.

It’s just another thing different about being with guys.

“And for Christ’ssake,” Zach adds, “in future you should find that out _before_ you fuck any other guys, okay?”

“I wasn’t intending to fuck any other guys,” Chris says, surprised.  “Not – at the moment.”

They look at each other.  Chris pulls Zach’s head down and kisses him.  “Stop worrying so much,” he tells him after they break for air.  “I’m the one who’s supposed to over-think things.  Then _you_ calm _me_ down.  I’ll see you soon, buddy.”  He pulls him into a back-slap hug, then leaves.

  
 *******

  
“So what exactly have you done before?” Zach asks.  He and Chris are intertwined on the floor of Chris’s apartment.  They’d tried to make it to the sofa, but it just wasn’t happening, in between pulling off clothes and sucking at exposed flesh.  But now that Zach is grilling Chris about the specific nature of his anal virginity, Chris is completely unconcerned.

“Fingers,” Chris breathes into Zach’s chest.  “A tongue once.”  He wriggles down Zach’s body, kissing at his hard cock on the way.  “Toys sometimes.  If I’m on my own.  Just small ones.”

Zach groans.  “Yeah, just there.”  Chris is sucking the inside of his thigh.  He moves back to swallow Zach’s dick, is allowed a few moments, then finds himself pulled back up by his hair.

“Jesus!” Chris gasps.  Zach is biting down on his nipple, hard.  Not too hard, but Chris’s skin is a little raw from dragging across carpet.  “Maybe a bit drastic,” he pants, quoting their slow-down safe word.  Zach immediately soothes with his tongue and sucks, sans teeth.  “Ohhh,” Chris sighs.  “Yesss.”

“So how do you wanna do this?” Zach asks, back up at his mouth.  “Out here?  Bedroom?  Kitchen?  Balcony?”  He’s only half-joking, Chris thinks.

“Here,” Chris says.  “And – kinda rough.  Don’t be too nice to me just ‘cause it’s my first time.  First real time, anyway.”

“I hope that’s not some straight-boy cop out,” Zach says sardonically.  “‘Oh, I couldn’t stop it happening, he just overpowered me.’”

“No,” snaps Chris, and he shoves Zach, just a little.  “And I said kinda rough, not kinda mean.”

“I was kidding,” Zach says, smiling.  “Sorry.  I’m the one who likes to make people cry, anyway.  Not like I can mock anyone else’s fantasies.”  And he’s rubbing Chris’s cock so beautifully that it would be churlish not to forgive.  “So.  I promise I won’t be too nice.”

“Good,” Chris grunts.  “Oh, fuck.  Stop, wait, too drastic!” 

“What?” Zach asks, surprised.  All he’s doing is giving him a slow jerk.

“Close,” Chris explains briefly.  “Don’t wanna come yet.”  Zach obligingly removes his hand and slides on top of him, kissing.  He pulls back for a moment to look at Chris.  Chris can feel his lips swollen from kissing, his eyes unfixed until they lock on to Zach’s.

“Jesus,” Zach breathes.  “That _face_ , Christopher.” 

Chris bucks up against Zach.  “Gonna make me beg for it?” he asks with a grin.

“I should, you little slut,” Zach says, devouring his mouth again.  “But frankly, I don’t think I could hold out anyway.”  He pushes Chris insistently over until he’s face down on the carpet.

“What about the –” Chris says.

“I got it,” Zach tells him.  He grabs his bag, previously forgotten on the floor, and pulls out a bottle of lube and a condom.

“Don’t need a rubber if you don’t want,” Chris says, clenching and unclenching his hands.

“Shut your mouth,” Zach murmurs.  “I swear, Christopher, you get hot and you lose your mind.”

“Just thought it might be better for you,” Chris says.

“Just trying to help, right?”  He’s already rolled it on with a practiced hand and is slicking himself down with lube.  “You can help by shifting your leg up.”  Chris does, and Zach applies the lube to him, his fingers teasing but only just tipping inside.

“Oh, God,” Chris says.  “Do it fast.  Please.  I’m gonna come if you don’t–”

Zach has already grasped at his hip and is driving forward.  “Maybe not a – great idea,” he says, “so quick – but _fuck_ –”

Chris squirms.  Zach rolls properly on top of him and sinks in.  Chris curses like a sailor.

“That.  _Hurt_.”

“Just stay still for a minute,” Zach promises.  “ _Uhn_.  You feel good.”  He has his hands over the top of Chris’s, clutching. 

Chris feels the pain ebb away.  “Go on,” he whispers.  “Fuck me.”  Zach draws back slowly. 

When he’s chorusing _ow ow ow ow ow_ into the carpet, Chris wonders for a split second whether he might have been better off with a gag, but Zach groans in his ear; Chris’s pain is half of the pleasure for Zach.  When he drives back in, the hurt goes away.  It feels good.  _Really_ good.  Chris makes a noise of relief.  Zach bites gently into where his neck meets his shoulder, careful not to break the skin, and starts fucking him.  The pull-out is where the pain lies, but it fades over time.

Chris feels totally debauched, getting screwed in the ass by Zach right on the floor of his own living room.  His cock is incredibly tender, pulling back and forth over the carpet fibers.  He can tell when Zach gets close, from the hitch in his breathing. 

Zach pulls him slightly back, onto his side, so he can jack Chris off.  “Thanks,” Chris pants.  “Thoughtful.  Of you.”  He can barely get the words out.  He’s struggling to realign his body to give Zach maximum access.

Zach growls, “Talk.”  Over the weeks, Chris has learned that Zach likes him talking as he comes – as they both come.  But it’s too late right now.  All Chris can manage is a string of pleading expletives, and then he’s shooting all over himself and the carpet.  Zach shoves him face down again, hard, and bucks into him three times, and it’s over.  Chris hisses as Zach’s teeth contract around his flesh, but Zach pulls his mouth away before any damage is done.

“Oh my God,” Chris says, muffled.

“Yeah,” Zach breathes.  He pulls out carefully, making Chris wince. 

“So tell me again why you _didn’t_ want to do that?”

Zach laughs, groans.  “Shut up.  Recovery time.”  They flop like starfish, side by side.

“Don’t know how I’m gonna clean that spooge up,” Chris yawns eventually.  “I guess carpet cleaner.”

“Mm.”

“Zach?”

“Mm?”

But he can’t say it.

“What?” Zach asks.

Chris is thinking, _Maybe I could be your boyfriend.  Maybe that’s what this thing is_.  But he’s a coward.Can't say it.  _If you can't say it, you can't do it_.

“ _What_?”  Zach is insistent now, wondering if something’s wrong. _  
_  
Chris turns to smile brilliantly at him, matinee idol glow.  Slides his fingers into Zach’s curled hand.  “Wanna do it again?"


End file.
